


Just Chatting

by nojoking



Category: Vorkosigan Saga - Lois McMaster Bujold
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-06
Updated: 2019-08-06
Packaged: 2020-08-10 15:15:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,573
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20137543
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nojoking/pseuds/nojoking
Summary: Fanfanfanficficfic - beginning with Rose Milburn's excellent VorAlys AU series (#6 All on a Frosty Night) then R G Molpus' Just Chatting which was described as a 500-word synopsis...… thence this piece.Olivia Vorrutyer visits Mariya Devidov, who had her child in Byerly's apartment during the recent snow storm.





	Just Chatting

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Just chatting](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18115202) by [RGmolpus](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RGmolpus/pseuds/RGmolpus). 

The call from the access-phone was unexpected and then surprising. "Is that Mariya Devidov, Osip's wife?"

There was no way Mariya was ready for a visitor – not today, not at this time of the morning . Just impossible. And she knew that Manushka was about to start screaming.

But somehow, the visitor’s smile had bypassed her intention to delay.

And now the young woman was at the door, through the door, still smiling, and now holding Manny in the crook of her arm with an expert grip that caused him to just ….stop ….. and smile back.

Somehow the visitor wasn’t noticing the mess, the smallness of the main room with the kitchenette off one side, the showerroom next and the so-called large bedroom. At least it was a little less cramped than service bachelor quarters. And the furnishings were better quality as being spares from the Admiral’s large house. Mariya was NOT going to call them cast-offs even if that was what her father had called them.

And Manny was now being so calm. Almost loveable. Mariya began to perk up at the thought that Manny was going to give her some peace. In just a few days she had a new understanding of exhaustion – but with her baby being so wonderful, mostly, she just had to keep going. Ugh.

“How did you do …. Sorry, I’m forgetting my manners.” Mariya waved generally towards the sitting corner of the small flat. “Take a seat, you’ll have to excuse the mess. But Manushka ….”

The woman waved a careless hand. “Oh, don’t be silly. I do know how a baby can disrupt even the most organised of us.”  
That disarming smile again. Mariya accepted it as a stunner-bolt and sat. After a moment, she remembered her manners and offered tea or coffee.

“On a day like this, I think tea for me. But nothing fancy.”

“There’s various herbal ones for my aunt, and a nice dark Russian mix.” The words came out as a half question.

“I’ll have the Russian at this time of day. Just plain.”

The preparation and delivery of the tea (in the second best cups) took a few minutes while Mariya could get her thoughts together.

“I was coming to this part of town, and I was reminded by my husband of you and your new baby. I remember with all my recently married friends how babies become an endless fascination. Provided, of course, that we’re not endlessly exhausted. So as an experienced mother of only a few months, I thought it the least I could do to find out how you are coping. Mmm?”

Mariya was aghast and agape. Fortunately, she was wearing Osip’s biggest dressing-gown so the gape was by mouth only despite the fact she had only just finished feeding Manushka.

“Umm. Sorry, my brain is mush at this time of the morning.” She saw from the woman’s grin that this was completely understood.

“Oh, I do know what you mean. But you actually having a baby in my cousin’s flat makes you seem very close somehow. By is actually my husband’s favourite cousin not mine. I’ve just got sisters – so many sisters.”

Mariya mumbled “that’s a lot different from being an only child, only daughter.”

“My mum, our mum – there were four of us – was this dazzling combination of efficient whirlwind and exhausted heap. Each of us older girls was able to flip and change a baby by the time we were eight. It was so apparent that there was something in the men’s genes that made it too difficult for the poor dears. But that didn’t get them off the hook completely. At times, we were changed by almost any passing male relative who stopped long enough to be told ‘Get on with it, you need to learn how babies get changed. Chop chop.’ ”

“Did your mother really do that?”

“Oh yes. One of Daddy’s friends would arrive at a particularly hectic time and she’d say ‘You can help. A practice for you when your wife has her next baby. Just get on with it, Kareen over there needs changing’. Or she’d point at me and say ‘Olivia needs another biscuit’. (Ah, the woman’s name is Olivia – now who IS she?}

“You should have seen some of these officers and gentlemen being confronted with a bundle of stinking, or even just wet and leaking, baby girl. I’m fairly sure that there was never any comment in their official files about how they coped with an emergency outside their official training. Fairly sure. But I remember one senior officer, as he picked my sister up and removed the wrappings all drippy and stinky – I’m certainly not going to admit it might have been me – he kicked the bucket over, nearly dropped the baby, who was so frightened she peed all over his clean Monday morning suit. Then while he tried to rescue what was left of his dignity,…….. no, it was too horrible. Well, funny for all the women. Mother does tell versions of that story when she wants to make a point about gender-specific skills.”

Mariya stifled a giggle – but failed.

Olivia grinned back – and continued. “One of the few who was never put out was my uncle, well, pseudo-uncle actually. My Dad’s boss. Always calm, always controlled. I’ve seen him in later years. Coming into the room absolutely steaming with anger, ready to let rip at someone, anyone – then – a baby needing help. And he flips into this ordinary sensible man doing an ordinary even if mucky job. He told me once ‘it is never the baby’s fault. And I will not let my lack of control or my anger overflow into such a blank tablet. We now know, eventually, how sensitive to emotion any baby can be – I will not inflict damage onto even the littlest of my family if I can avoid doing so’. He then blithered something about ‘having got it wrong once or twice, he was now and for always determined to set as good an example as possible.’

“This uncle of yours sounds quite impressive. What did you say he was called?”

“For years, like anyone trying to be polite to the generation above, I’ve mumbled the occasional ‘sir’ or, most often, a sort of muffled grunt. I mean, even if you’ve met your father’s assistant almost every day for years, could you call him ‘James’ or whatever. With some pressure, I can now just about manage to say, ‘um, Aral’ – about once per year.”

Olivia saw all the questions beginning to bubble. As an Admiral’s daughter, Mariya was unlikely to be stupid. She veered significantly, hoping that the mention of ‘Aral’ would be set aside in the rush. “And so how much is Osip helping?” She calculated that Mariya was far more likely to talk about her husband than friends of her visitor.

“Does he help?”

Mariya’s expression said it all.

“What! I’ll guess that he helps but could do more, huh! He’ll need training just as much as the baby. He’s going to have to do his share of the feeding, the night-time wake-ups, the pees and poos. A baby is not a task that a man can avoid. Maybe, and I say maybe, he can do some of the other tasks you usually do if he really can’t do the baby well. But each time he fails to engage with Manushka, his ties and links will weaken. It’s not good. I’ve got a Betan friend who is rather blunt on the subject.”

In the gaps in between Olivia’s enthusiastic bubbling, Mariya thought about all that Olivia had said and the words Aral and Betan began to mesh together with, what was it, the Koudelka Girls. Mariya might have grown up a little isolated from high-Prole life or anything to do with Vorbarr Sultana – but ….. she began to realize the level and complexity of her new friend’s involvement and what it might mean for her – and Manushka – and Osip.

“Oh, and get some spare uniforms for Osip. You can be absolutely certain that just before a really important Staff meeting – Manny will mess up the one Osip’s wearing. It’s a law. I think we worked out it’s the Seventh Law of Babies – At the most critical time, pee on your Daddy.”

“That happened the day before yesterday. I was wondering, is there some way to get extra uniforms without the whole fuss of going through the usual channels?”

“Oh dear me, that’s almost ancient history. There’s been all sorts of changes at 3S [Services Supply System]. It began with the ImpMil commissary. At last someone senior had a baby, or rather their wife had a baby and she was from offworld and couldn’t understand why so little was done to help families. She summarised a number of technical papers from Beta, Earth and so on which basically said ‘If you look after a soldier’s family then the soldier’s morale and performance will be better.’

“She shared these reports with the wives of a number of senior staff who all went ‘Yes’. She even got to speak with several Count’s wives. Needless to say, their input proved even more decisive. And one of these was Lady Alys Vorpatril – and as the Emperor’s social secretary, she had a great deal of influence. And this tribe of determined women began to press as to why, with so many parents in the Military, the Commissary didn’t carry supplies for families as well as serving soldiers. One General had been fond of saying ‘every front-line soldier needs 6 or more backup to ensure his maximum efficiency’. The wives simply amended the numbers and told him that families and wives and children and even dependent parents mattered as well. And as ‘backup’ they were at least as important as cooks, quartermasters and all the officially recognised backroom boys. “

Apparently, somehow, neither Osip nor Mariya nor even perhaps her father had been sufficiently aware of this change of emphasis. Olivia wondered exactly how something that obvious had slipped past them. Surely in the mere 9 months that it had taken to produce this baby – someone would have talked about what was available.

Olivia fished. “How did you not know about the support that’s available?”

“Simple answer – I didn’t ask. Second answer – nobody told me. Big answer – I’m an only child and my Dad may be good at some things – but babies – not. I’ve always kept myself to myself. There’s not so many want to mix with a fat, clumsy kid like I was. Then when that was fixed, by a pill and some willpower, I was the Admiral’s daughter and still had no friends. It’s been quite difficult.”

Olivia saw this had been hard on Mariya so she eased back. As always , she decided that talking about the wonderfulness of the baby, or even the husband would get Mariya to relax.

“So Manushka is doing well.”

“Oh yes. He’s feeding well and the ImpMil doctor has looked him over. As well as Doctor Wally wanting to know how both he and I are getting on. He’s so kind. He’s been here really quite often. He made such a fuss at first, about how difficult it was to deliver a baby over a videolink. Then he started talking about re-training the emergency services so that they would know what to do. And he’s got statistics on how many babies are born in emergency conditions. I don’t know why he’s going on about it.”

“Mariya, he’s been here because he takes responsibility for things. The good people do that. I’ve seen some of them at work – and I’ve heard about others. Vorkosigan, Vorbretten, Vorhalas even, and now Voralys – they’re all good – and Vorbarra at the top sets the right example. How there are still some stupid, ugly, incompetent Counts does worry me – but not so much now I know about the good ones. I still find abuse of power is the thing which most gets me lit up.”

Somehow, this led Olivia into mentioning that there had been a recent, completely fictional, story about the abuse delivered to the first girl-candidate in a male-dominated soldiery, an Annie Price. [Tales from the Academy ScottWashburn] The book had contained other new ideas about family morale and dealing with all the not-quite official problems at base or camp. Olivia did also say that she found stories which started with problems for the heroine but eventually had her being ‘better than all the rest’ were a bit too much sometimes. Not many people get to that level – so why write as if it is frequent. Good - yes. Excellent – maybe. Better than everyone else – don’t be silly.”

“Anyway, pretty fiction aside, perhaps it’s time that we had another push for getting the military machine to take notice of women. After all, I keep hearing rumours that there are girls who want to join up and serve. That’ll be a shock if nobody has done any preparation.”

“Would you have joined up if you could – or any of your sisters?"

“I think so. Of the four of us, I’m the most likely to think that way. We all have plans to go far, but being a prole blocks so many opportunities, or did. But with a mother who worked in the palace as a trained assistant to the senior ladies, she knew a lot of guard-type skills. And my dad was proper military even once he was stuck behind a desk. And my husband, remarkably, has some ideas about changes that need to happen. He’s very keen that women get more official influence. Everyone knows the old line about ‘behind every successful man is a determined woman’ but quotes are one thing, making it happen is more difficult. Dono has strong views.”

“‘Dono’ – who’s Dono?”

But Olivia had already moved on. “Oh yes, I was talking about making sure that Osip does his share. He’s had a lot of years of being a son and bachelor. Yes, he’s been a husband for a while but now he’s the head of a family with yet more jobs and responsibilities. You’ve got to do some husband-training as well as baby-training. And of course, you’ll be leaning too. Mostly how to do it all with less sleep.”

“Does it make that much difference if …”

Olivia interrupted. “you have no idea. It doesn’t happen to everyone as every baby is different. But at times, you’ll be really tired and as you said when I arrived ‘the brain turns to mush’. You find yourself talking babies and baby-talk to complete strangers in the hope they’ll have ‘the answer’. But some of them will spout something at you – relevant, irrelevant, true, false, guesswork or whatever and it rarely makes a difference. The biggest and best way to break out of that rut when you get into it, and you probably will, is to ask for help. Is anybody giving you help?”

“Well, look at you – and Admiral Wally and all your friends – they’re helping. Look at how your cousin helped me on a that horrid, wonderful night. And a lot of Osip’s colleagues or their wives, they’re helping. Even if they’re doing a bit of sucking-up to the Admiral’s grandson, every little helps.“

Questions to ask! And Olivia kept avoiding. Mariya asked one question that had been sitting waiting for an opportunity. Even if it broke the flow somewhat. “So, was your father in the services?”

“Oh, yes. He’s now a commodore. Nothing so grand as your father, Admiral Desplaines, being on the Imperial Staff and all that. Mind you, for various reasons as children we got to know the most amazing variety of people. But we knew our place. We might come across a number of Vor because of living in the city and Pa being, well, y’know.”

But as they were both well aware – Mariya did not know. Who was this woman? Prole – obviously but with knowledge and subtleties of Vor-style in how she spoke, how she gestured. No way was her experience ‘casual encounters as a child’ huh.

Gradually, the conversation rolled onwards even if tending to interrogation by Mariya at times. Olivia knew she was being naughty but there were limits. Could she really say, as if with casual ease, that she had been brought up as a playmate for Miles Vorkosigan, the newest Imperial Auditor, son of Aral of fame and infamy, son of the Betan Countess Cordelia, grandson etc etc as well as playing with Ivan Vorpatril and Gregor. Well, no way was she going to ever tell that the Emperor had changed her nappy and that she had peed all over him. More than once. Or the Regent.

“Let’s keep things simple. I’m a new mum and that means I have friends who are new mums. Some have older children too. Some, like you, are just getting started. And then there’s all the replicator births that are coming along. That’s going to change things. ”

Mariya pulled a face. Replicator birth had never been an option. She wasn’t quite sure how it had been planned to be a natural birth or even who had suggested it or how the decision had been made.

“So, some of us are meeting up to see how we can change things, keep an eye on the men when they try to change things in ways we think are, um, less than optimal.” Olivia smiled. “And since we are all mothers with small babies – there’s a huge need to herd babies. It’s SO much easier when there’s lots of them and we can share the load. So I think you should be joining us. Clearly, your father needs to be reminded of the extra load that a baby puts on a family. It’s truly important that senior staff keep being reminded of the non-military influences on their people. Anyway, one or other of us has a car big enough to pick up one extra baby – so that removes the problem of getting to us and back. Mmm. I think the next one is at the Vorrutyer house in two days, from after lunch to early evening when everyone sets off back to baby-bedtime.”

“Vorrutyer House! But I couldn’t do that. I mean. What would I wear?”

“You really don’t need to worry about where it is or who you’ll meet. It’s mostly my sisters and their broods. [Olivia was NOT going to mention Vorbarra, Vorkosigan or any other name!! And as for making it obvious that she WAS Vorrutyer – also no.] The key thing is that they’re all new mums. If you’re wondering about what to wear – then you’ve already decided that you’re coming. Haven’t you? It’ll be good for you and for Manny. What’s in your wardrobe? Eh, let’s have a look.”

And suddenly there were two excited ex-teenagers arguing about what went with what and ‘oooh, wouldn’t that look nice’ and ‘what’s THAT, it’s horrible’.

It felt to Mariya like it took ages – but then she remembered how it had been when there had been a gaggle of girls a-shop. Olivia suggested a comfortable sun-dress and sandals – nothing too fancy. ‘After all, we’ll be wrestling babies and they can reduce even the nicest clothes to rags in bare moments. Let alone what a herd of kittens might do – one of my friends always, but always, has a recent herd of killer-attack-kittens available.”

“I’ll call you probably the day after tomorrow. I need to make sure that we’re organised rather than the casual drop-in that we mostly do. You’ll fit right in – especially with your gorgeous baby.” And not many moments later, Olivia had skipped out of the flat and down the stairs. Squeezing past the baby-sized bump on the floor, just in time, Mariya peeped out of the window and saw a shinier-than-average groundcar pick up speed and waft round the corner. Exactly who was Olivia – and what sort of group was Mariya being cajoled into joining?

Stepping back, Mariya looked at the flat and realized that she’d have to be a bit busier on the tidying and cleaning if other high-level visitors were likely. Even if she wasn’t visibly Vor, this one behaved like it. Correction – Rethink - ah, but no – Osip would have to do his share. Having the likes of By and the Admiral come round was bad enough – but women of the same class?! Their eyes saw differently and couldn’t always be sidetracked by just another baby.

Time to call for reinforcements. Her Aunt had taken on the role of mother – and thereby gained the honorary ‘Mamere’.  


“Mamere – I might have a problem ………”

That conversation took some time but filled in quite a few gaps, as well as giving Mariya a lot of suggestions as to what to do next. And Aunt began to realize that there were excellent avenues for gossip opening up for her coterie.

“Daddy – what do you know about a Commodore, Koudelka is the name I think.”

And that gave a lot more information as to Mariya’s visitor and her associates. Counts, several Counts, as well as Regents, Auditors, Emperors and Empresses. Mariya’s brain was spinning at the opportunities. And, deep down, she wondered if she was frightened. Then the other, strong, voice on her shoulder murmured, ‘But, NO. I am the daughter of an Admiral. If I wish it – nothing can frighten me. ‘

Next she’d have to talk to Osip.


End file.
